


Baby, It's Cold Outside

by MysticMerc



Series: Sherlock Seasonal Cheer [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Cold, Cuddles, Faulty Heating, Fluff, Hibernating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-07 00:13:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8775475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticMerc/pseuds/MysticMerc
Summary: December 6thPrompt: What? The heat's not working?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Baby, It's Cold Outside](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8979658) by [xihuangtobira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xihuangtobira/pseuds/xihuangtobira)



> Your comments are all really encouraging for a new writer like me! Thank you!

Greg bounded up the stairs and was greeted by the doorman, shivering outside.

“Mycroft’s not expecting anyone else tonight. I’m sure he’ll understand if you just go home,” he said gently.

His relationship with the doorman (he didn’t even know the man’s _name_!) was awkward at best. The doorman hesitated for a moment on the steps before grunting gratefully and trotting down the stairs. Greg let himself in, ready to throw his jacket over the back of the sofa but was almost struck down by the cold. It was colder _inside_ than it was outside.

He fiddled with the thermostat for a moment before searching the flat for Mycroft. Greg finally found him holed up in his office at his laptop, his body twitching slightly with barely contained shivers. Mycroft’s face was scrunched up into a scowl with the tips of his ears, nose and fingers all an angry red colour.

“Oh, Myc... What’re you doing freezing your arse off in here, you muppet...” Greg fussed, putting his hands over his partner’s ears to warm them up.

“The h-heating’s not w-working,” Mycroft glowered.

“What? We live in one of the most expensive flats in Kensington and you’re telling me the heating’s not working? Can’t we get someone in to fix it?”

Mycroft stopped typing and glared up at Greg. Right. Of course. He’d already tried that.

“Well, come on. We’ll just go and hibernate in bed until tomorrow. I told the doorman to go home, anyhow,” Greg said, starting to shiver himself.

“I thought the laptop would keep me warm,” Mycroft muttered.

Greg placed his hand over the keys but they were stone cold. Any heat coming off of that laptop was being sucked into the freezing cold air. That was the problem with these minimalist flats. No furniture or knick knacks to insulate them.

“That’s clearly not working, Myc. Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

* * *

 

Ten minutes later they were in bed. Greg supposed they looked rather silly, two grown men wearing woolly jumpers and thick socks bundled under two duvets (one from the spare bedroom) and a blanket. Greg was even arranging a hot water bottle between them to keep them warm.

“This is, by far, one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever done,” Mycroft sighed, giving Greg a small smile.

“No, sitting in your freezing cold office using your ice-block of a laptop for heat is one of the most ridiculous things you’ve ever done.”

Mycroft mock-glared at Greg and gently elbowed his ribs. His nose was gradually turning back to a healthier colour and neither of them were shivering as much as they were earlier. He had to admit, they’d made a rather brilliant nest. He was even able to kiss Mycroft now that his lips weren't numb with cold.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wearing a hat,” Greg mused.

“And for good reason too. My head looks far too round as it is without a hat to draw attention to it,”

“Oh shush, you. I bet you’d look rather dashing with the right hat on,” he smirked “I’ll have to get you a beanie for Christmas. Or a bobble hat!”

The look on Mycroft’s face spoke volumes. Greg burst out laughing but he soon joined in too. The pair of them were giggling like schoolgirls under a mountain of blankets because, apparently, no one in London wanted to fix the heating at this time of night.

Outside of their bedroom, they heard the doorbell ring.

“Takeaway...” Greg groaned in anticipation.

“One of us will have to leave the bed...” Mycroft whispered.

A few promises Greg might live to regret later and Mycroft was returning with their curry.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at mysticmerc-awesome


End file.
